"What is it?" Dakshana asked. Chadstone led her through the trees. His expression was blank, but he thrummed with the elemental intensity of a hunter.
"Sounds like a dire wolf," he said. His voice slid over her like liquid silk and settled in her bones; they ran, hand in hand.
Hunters and maidens screamed, fleeing. One group of hunters banded together, armed with sticks and stones; one was covered in blood, face blank and wet with tears. Chadstone thrust Dakshana behind the confused hunters and drew a knife. It was long, wickedly curved, and gleamed in the moonlight. It was metal.
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